


The Modern Orpheus

by somnivagrantTraviatus



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 12:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnivagrantTraviatus/pseuds/somnivagrantTraviatus
Summary: Sometimes, he could swear he hears Shibuya.Shibuya definitely hears him.(AKA: Neku muses about being loved by a city and manages to not punch Joshua in the face)





	The Modern Orpheus

**Author's Note:**

> Does it count as a long-distance relationship if your zucchini is sort of haunting you from the afterlife? And also may or may not be the avatar of the city you live in? Enquiring minds want to know.

It’s a beautiful day.

Nearly always is, these days. Used to be he’d chalk up bright blue skies and birdsong over the park to good friends and a change in outlook, but even the rain plays like glockenspiels over his roof.

He’d like to think he’s over it. He didn’t even jump the last time he heard snickering by Udagawa – and, okay, maybe that’s because he flinched instead, but it’s the principle of the thing. Still, it’s disconcerting to realize: he never needs to look for parking. The light is always green when he needs to cross. J of the M never runs out of his size. Little things.

The last time he questioned it, he nearly got run over by a bicycle. He tries not to think too hard about it anymore.

“And yet, here you are,” says a light voice behind him.

His spine tenses, but Neku keeps his pencil loose, feathering in leaves. He doesn’t turn around.

A giggle, pitched high and irritating. “You know, you’re really getting good at this, Neku,” the voice says, circling around him. A pause, just long enough for the ambiguity to register, and then a cold touch against his shoulder. “Any better, and I might start to believe you don’t want to talk to me after all.”

Neku shivers, opens his mouth despite himself. Closes it with a click. _Me? Not wanting to talk to you? Wow, imagine that._ The pencil scratches irritably against his sketchbook, and he swears, grabbing for his eraser.

It leaps easily to his fingers. “Careful, Nekky dear,” the voice chides. “Wouldn’t want you to lose your temper and ruin that beautiful sketch of yours, would we.”

Neku rolls his eyes, but applies the eraser more gently than he might have. _Don’t know why, but I missed you, Josh._

A breeze ruffles his hair. He’s never worked out whether these visits are real Composer bullshit or the imagined kind, but he leans into it anyway, sighing. _Am I ever gonna get to see you again? Actually see you?_

“Your guess is as good as mine, I’m afraid.” He can just picture Joshua’s expression – a shrug, halfway between resigned and grimly amused. “Honestly, you’ve been lucky to get this much. If it hadn’t been for our Pact –”

_I know, I know. You gave me the spiel already._

“ _So_ good to hear you’ve been paying attention!” Dogs bark and leaves rustle in the distance as Joshua sighs. “You’re growing up, you know. The Neku I met would have tried to hit me by now.”

_Yeah, well. Only so many times you can punch thin air without looking like an idiot._

“As if _that’s_ ever stopped you.”

_Hey!_

A bird twitters with Joshua’s laughter. Neku follows it as it hops between the trees. _So… if you can’t actually talk to me, then what’s up with all the…_

“Phenomena?” Josh supplies, amused. “It should be obvious. They only banned _me_ from interacting with you, after all.”

 _Who else is there?_ Reapers? He jolts, casting a wary eye around.

Nothing, of course. A pebble bounces off the back of his head in reproach.

“You’re lucky I was quick enough to move in time, or you would have robbed yourself of my sparkling conversation,” Joshua chides, from his other shoulder now. “ _Honestly,_ Neku, what were you trying to accomplish? Reapers aren’t even visible at frequencies this low.”

His shoulders tense. Joshua just laughs. “No, there aren’t any here. They avoid you, you know.”

 _Good._ He drums his fingers against his sketchbook. _Mr. H, then?_

The air stills, briefly, before stirring with a casual ruffle of wind. “He’s been busy. Come on, Neku! I know thinking can be difficult, but even you should be able to work this out.”

A newspaper blows by, crumpled folds obscuring everything past the headline’s first word: **SHIBUYA**. Neku gapes. “You mean –”

The woman on the bench next to him startles, glancing at him. He ducks his head in apology, then collapses into a sigh when she looks away.

He doesn’t hear Josh’s voice anymore. He never does, once he’s looked.

The wondering is the worst part – if it was real, if any of it was real, if he can trust himself at all.

The trees rustle. Gentle wind pries his fingers loose from the bench seat, buoys his head up from his hand. 

The park is a vibrant sonata of life.

Wind and birdsong play counterpoint to horns and traffic, each falling, measure by measure, into time marked out in footsteps across the Scramble. A baby cries harmony over arpeggios of laughter. And weaving through it all, a melody: _I love you, I love you._

A cherry petal drifts past his cheek like a fermata, coming to a rest against his portrait’s heart. 

He stares at it for a second, then breaks the spell with a snort. The figure really isn’t Joshua, but if Shibuya wants it so bad, he’s got some nice symbolism he could add to the background.

Haloed in inspiration and city air, he draws.


End file.
